SEOUL -- Insadong was once a sleepy, scenic haven
for art lovers and tea drinkers. As recently as the 1990s, the neighborhood,
which covers several downtown blocks in Seoul and can by walked through in a leisurely
10 minutes, offered a low-rise main street lined with galleries, used
bookstores and antique shops; its maze of back alleys featured tea houses,
cafes and inns set in traditional Korean cottages, or “hanok.”

But in one of Asia’s most future-centric capitals,
Insadong’s charm has been chipped away. Multi-story buildings arose, and in
2002, after being designated a “tourism district,” Insadong’s main street was colonized
by big businesses selling souvenirs, branded coffee and cosmetics.

The multi-story Ssamzie-gil mall represents the new face of Insadong (Andrew Salmon)

Still, much of the district’s south side remains
“undeveloped” – an outpost of the narrow alleyways and little buildings, including
a clutch of hanok, which once characterized the entire area. Even though some of the buildings
are distinctly shabby, overall, it wafts an air of authenticity absent
elsewhere in Insadong. And now it faces the threat of bulldozing.

Early this year, Seoul City announced plans to redevelop
the southern sector following a March fire. At least at the top, the city seems
set on preservation.

“It is my firm principle to keep our identity, tradition,
legacies and history,” said Seoul Mayor Park Won-soon. “I am asking residents
and developers to preserve old homes and small alleys, but it is not easy
because residents are anxious to make money, to get rich and destroy
everything.”

Plans alter zoning regulations, limiting future retailers
in the area to cultural businesses: no more coffee or cosmetic shops will be
permitted. And mindful of the swathes of destruction driven through other
traditional districts in recent years, City Hall has carefully sub-divided the
redevelopment area into small, bite-sized chunks – ostensibly preventing
property moguls buying up large lots, bulldozing them and raising monster
buildings.

But preservationists are cynical about City Hall’s
commitment to preservation.

“In Korea and in many Asian countries, there is an
understanding about the importance of monumental architecture,” said Peter
Bartholomew, a 45-year Korea resident who is frequently quoted in vernacular
media arguing for architectural preservation. “This is not transferred to
residential and smaller commercial buildings -- they just don’t acknowledge
that there is any value in them.”

Regulations designed to preserve traditional hanok in
Bukchon, a neighborhood noted for its old cottages, backfired when owners took
city financial incentives to “remodel” their hanoks and destroyed them
completely, building new hanok in their place. There was an outcry in 2009,
after Pimat-gol, an ancient old back alley lined with venerable but down-market
eateries, was razed to make way for an office block. And just months after former Seoul mayor
Oh Se-hoon told foreign reporters that there would be no further destruction of
hanok on his watch, an alley lined with old cottages in central Seoul’s
Gwanghwamun was obliterated for another office block.

In relentlessly capitalistic Korea, where real estate is a
key source of wealth, City Hall is subject to pressures from landlords. Under
the new plan, owners are able to apply for permissions to raise building
heights, increasing rental potential, and widen the area’s narrow alleyways,
improving vehicular access.

The old face of Insadong: An antique dealer in a back alley. (Andrew Salmon)

Though area landlords concede that this creates conflict, they are keen to
modernize by raising building heights and improving vehicular access.

“It’s like building owners versus tenants, Insadong
residents versus Seoul citizens,” said Choi Hee-so, who heads an association of 90
Insadong landlords. “People here are not worried about widened alleyways - most
building owners are fine if they widen the alleyways.”

With no regulation in place for hanok preservation, nor
firm policies maintaining the width of Insadong’s alleyways, preservationists
are fearful.

“Hanok are the only link to a chapter of history: They
were part of the formative experience for Koreans for centuries,” said David
Kilburn, a British expatriate and hanok activist. “Hanok are a foundation stone
of what it means to be Korean.”

“Those alleys
were laid out in Seoul 500-600 years ago,” added Bartholomew. “It would be a
crime to destroy these living, vibrant remains of the city’s foundation that
have been here for half a millennium.”

The controversies surrounding Insadong are not simply
those of planning, architecture and usage; they reflect broader debates roiling
Korean society, such as “economic democratization” – i.e. giving small players
a chance against the big boys.

Antique merchant Choi Kyung-soo is opposed to ongoing changes and redevelopments in
Insadong, which he says makes it difficult for small businesses to survive.

“Most shops here were mainly for arts ‘n crafts - small
businesses that don’t make much money,” said Choi, who formerly operated on
Insadong’s main street, but now sells his Buddhist statues, figurines and old
instruments in a back alley. “Now that Insadong has become popular, the rents
on the main street have soared, so artists and small businesses can no longer
afford them: The only people who can are big businesses.”

A pair of old gentlemen selling pottery in an Insadong side street (Andrew Salmon)

The redevelopment also highlights a demographic chasm
dividing a society that has modernized at breakneck speed; between a generation
that grew up among alleyways and hanok, and a generation raised in concrete
high-rises.

“Many young people have no memories of old alleys, but
citizens in their 60s, 70s and 80s are against these plans,” said Kim Ji-myung,
Secretary General of the Korea Heritage Culture Forum. “In the past, Insadong was an area
for grown-up adults, but is now an area for cheap souvenirs and young people.
There is a strong sense of loss.”

“In the old days, visitors to Insadong were older Koreans
who liked to stroll the streets and buy antiques and pottery, but as it has
become popular, more young people come,” lamented antiquarian Choi. “If a young
woman in her 20s came here and I said (gesturing at an old brass gong), ‘Take
this, it’s free!’ she’d say, ‘Why do I need that?’”

And with so little left of Olde Seoul remaining, a bigger
concern overshadows the Insadong redevelopment plan, which City Hall touts as a
model for future developments.

“I am worried because Insadong is the most prominent,
salient area promoting traditional Korean culture,” said Bartholomew. “If
traditional buildings and the traditional atmosphere is demolished, it will
serve as a precedent for the destruction of Seoul’s last, few remaining
traditional neighborhoods.”

The low-rise buildings and narrow alleyways of southern Insadong face the threat of redevelopment (Andrew Salmon)